


Believe

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Def Leppard
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Steve knew that he had a problem.(But was it a problem, really?)
Relationships: Steve Clark/Phil Collen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Believe

Steve knew that he had a problem. 

(But was it a problem, really?) 

(After all, the others did the same thing.) 

(But no, it was only bad when he did it.) 

One cold night, Steve promised Phil that he would tone it down with the drinking. 

And now, Steve was regretting that decision. 

"Damn." Steve mumbled, rubbing his eyes and trying to ignore _that itch_ at the back of his throat, his mind, wanting him to find the nearest bottle of whatever and down it, just to get rid of that niggling itch, but he'd promised! 

Phil was asleep on the couch, his arms bunched up beneath his head, eyes shut but eyelashes fluttering. 

"I know you're awake, you bastard." Steve snarled, arms crossed as he began to pace the room in short, quick strides. 

A sigh followed the accusation, followed by distinct silence. Phil had his eyebrows raised high up toward his bangs, and his normally expressive face was relatively stoic. "What is it?" He asked. 

Steve, barely able to form words, much less put his thoughts into audible confessions, began to pull at his hair. "I'm sorry for calling you - a - a prick." He said softly. 

"An'?" Rick said. 

A helpless groan slipped past Steve's lips. "I won't do it again, I'm sorry! I just don't know what to do - I want to drink so _bad!"_ He felt like crying, no matter how pathetic it might've seemed. Steve felt like crying and breaking whatever promises he'd made, but he couldn't, because Phil was just trying to help him. 

Steve crouched down on the floor, his hands entangled into his hair tightly, pulling it from the roots. 

(Maybe the pain from the outside would distract him from the pain on the inside.)

Phil clicked his tongue and stood up, walking across the room and crouching down beside Steve's prone form. Rick had warm hands, and the feeling of them on his back and neck nearly made Steve smile, just at the mere feeling. 

"It'll be hard, love, but you can do it." Phil was so stupidly optimistic. 

(But it was so easy to believe him.) 

"No." Steve let out a sob. "No, I can't." He felt like a child, and it made him want to cry even harder. 

(Damn it all!) 

"Yes, you can." Phil kissed the side of his head and pulled him into a hug. He smelt like that stupid American cologne that he always used and Steve loved it. 

It distracted him from the pain. 

Steve wrapped his arms around Phil. "I feel so fucking scared." He whispered. "I don't want to fail." 

"Fail?" Phil sounded puzzled. "This isn't a test. Steve, love, remember - whenever you fall, I _will_ pick you up, but this is your decision. Right here, right now, I need you to choose either me or the alcohol. Which one?" 

(Oh, God. No, not now.) 

(He always knows how to get to me.) 

(Damn it all.) 

"You." Steve whispered, clutching at Phil's jacket, pulling him close, desperate for touch, for love, for affection and reassurance. 

And Phil pressed a kiss to Steve's wild blonde hair. "You can do this, Steve. I believe in you. You just have to believe in yourself, too." 

(Could I do that?) 

Steve looked up at Rick's face. 

(Yes, I can.)

**Author's Note:**

> And then Steve quit drinking and he never died. 
> 
> The End.


End file.
